


The Care And Keeping Of Your Minbari

by traveller19



Series: Hold Back the River AU [4]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: (Just mild angst this time), Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Trigger Warning: Alcohol, Whump, h/c, tw: alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12911334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveller19/pseuds/traveller19
Summary: Lennier is feeling under the weather (just a bit this time).  Vir tries to help him feel better.  Things go awry.





	1. Lennier

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Welcome to the next (shorter) installment in the "Hold Back the River" series. This will make the most sense if you read all that comes before it. :) I'll be posting a chapter a day for a total of four chapters. The final one *might* be posted Wednesday or Thursday, depending on how stressed I get about the biggest test of my life, which I am taking on Thursday - the North American Veterinary Licensing Examination. Wish me luck!

Usually Lennier loved going to work. It generally meant he got to spend the entire day with Delenn, serving her and being close to her and talking to her. Sometimes they helped to shape the future of the galaxy together. Sometimes they just reviewed trade reports. But no matter the work they did, Lennier nearly always enjoyed himself. His job as ambassadorial aide kept his active mind engaged and constantly challenged, and he got to spend time with the most important person in his life.

But that morning, Lennier did not think that his day at work would be particularly enjoyable. Normally, he woke up an hour before he needed to in order to begin readying himself for the day so that he had time to practice his daily rituals of prayer and meditation. But when his BabCom unit bid him a good morning that day, he muttered it into silence without even opening his eyes. He was much too tired to get up yet – although he had slept through the night, it felt as though he had not gotten a single minute’s rest. When the alarm went off again an hour later, the robotic voice somehow managing to sound more demanding than the last time, he very nearly ignored it again. But no. He had work to do. That day, he and Delenn were to work with Vir, who was standing in for Londo while the ambassador was away on Centauri Prime, to devise a plan for new security protocols for the series of jumpgates shared by the Minbari and the Centauri. Lennier had been looking forward to working with Vir – both of them had been quite busy recently, and had had not had as much time together as they would have liked. While their trips to the bar and their movie nights with Marcus had still been occurring, they were not as frequent as usual, and Lennier found himself missing his friends. So by all rights, he should have been ecstatic to go to work that morning.

But the moment he rolled off of his angled bed, he could tell that something was very wrong. For one thing, it felt far colder in his quarters than usual. The Minbari were adapted to what most other species would call a cold environment. But despite the fact that the BabCom reassured him that the temperature of the room had not changed from its normal setting, Lennier found himself shivering and wishing he could curl up beneath his blanket again. And his head was pounding, it hurt to swallow, his nose somehow managed to be both runny _and_ stuffed, and every inch of his body ached. But the worst came when he inhaled - he felt pain crawl down his airways just before he was overcome by a paroxysm of wet coughs that hurt his chest enough to elicit a whimper of pain when he could finally breathe again. The fit sent the room spinning around him, and he grasped the side of his tilted bed to steady himself.

So he was genuinely ill, then. That would explain why all he wanted to do was lie down and go back to sleep. But the work they needed to get done today was quite important – relations with the Centauri had always been tense at best, and any kind of cooperation between the two governments was an important feat. Lennier would be all right – he had certainly had worse, after all. Today’s plans held no suggestion of running around the station – he should be able to stay off of his feet all day. It would probably not be the most enjoyable day of his life, but he would manage.

After he took a moment to regain his bearings, Lennier dragged himself over to his little kitchen, feeling as though his feet were dragging with every step. He put a kettle of tea on the stove, hoping the hot drink would help to soothe his raw throat. He began to get the supplies he needed to make spiced porridge out of habit, but he found that when he so much as thought about eating, his stomach turned unpleasantly. So he abandoned breakfast and went to change into his robes for work. Those were, at least, warmer than his nightclothes.

Stepping into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he stopped and regarded his medicine cabinet with a tired sigh. He knew he ought to be taking his emergency _Pseudocyanin ubique_ antibody doses. Fighting off any kind of infection or illness meant that his immune system was even weaker than usual, and therefore his body was using up the antibodies more quickly than normal. Since his genetic condition prevented his system from manufacturing its own antibodies to that particular bacteria, that meant he needed to take his injections more frequently than his customary twice a week. He would need to dose himself twice daily until he was recovered. It was not that he was unaccustomed to this. He injected himself with the antibody all the time, and he had undergone the emergency procedure several times - any time he happened to cut himself, in fact. At least he did not have open skin to painfully douse in rubbing alcohol this time. It was just that his hands were shaky enough at the moment that he was not sure if he would be able to safely inject himself. He would try, anyway – it was better than trudging all the way to Medlab in his current state. He rolled up his left sleeve, rubbed alcohol on the skin of his upper arm, and very carefully inserted the needle into the muscle, being careful to account for the factor of his trembling hand. After a couple of tense moments, he successfully managed to empty the contents of the syringe where they were supposed to go, and he finished the procedure by placing an adhesive bandage over the injection site. He rubbed his arm – it would be sore, as Doctor Franklin had told him intramuscular injection sites generally were. But he was accustomed to it – his left arm nearly always hurt these days. He barely noticed it anymore. Regular working of the muscle helped, which was yet another reason he liked sparring with Marcus so much. Although he was sure he would not be doing any of _that_ for at least the next few days.

Lennier’s normal routine was slowed by his exhaustion and frequent coughing fits, so he was a couple of minutes behind schedule getting to Delenn’s quarters. When he walked in, Vir was already there, seated at the dining table with Delenn. The two were clearly conversing, but both looked up when Lennier entered, smiling at their friend. Lennier smiled weakly back at them.

“Good morning, Lennier!” Delenn greeted, the warmth in her voice filling his heart as it always did. Although today, it made him feel a little guilty that he would not be able to serve her to the best of his ability. She deserved better than what his bedraggled body and exhausted mind could give her.

“Good morning, Delenn,” he replied. His voice was even quieter than usual, but he was honestly not sure he was capable of speaking any louder.

“I am sorry I’m late,” he apologized, swallowing hard as the mere couple of sentences taxed his tender throat. He triangled his hands in preparation to bow in search of forgiveness for his tardiness, but Delenn shook her head.

“Think nothing of it,” she reassured him. “You are barely late.” She narrowed her eyes suddenly, clearly studying him.

Lennier sighed internally – she knew something was wrong. Although he was not sure what he had been expecting – with the number of coughing fits he had already experienced that morning, there was no way he could hide his illness from her. And besides, several months ago his attempt to conceal an illness from Delenn had ended rather terribly for the both of them. He wished he could spare her the worry he knew she feel, but he knew there was no help for it. He was about to admit to his currently less than ideal state of physical being when he saw that Delenn was already aware – concerned flooded her eyes.

“Lennier, you are quite pale. Are you unwell?”

“I think I might have a touch of a cold,” he barely managed to reply before he was overcome by his worst episode of coughing yet. Pain shot through his lungs so intensely that he doubled over, grasping the nearest chair for support. It took several seconds for the paroxysms to cease, and when they did, they left him feeling dizzy and out of breath. It took him a few moments to realize that Delenn had gotten to her feet and wrapped an arm around his back to steady him. He started to protest that he was all right and she needn’t have gotten up on his account, but she would have none of it.

“Oh Lennier, that sounds like it really hurts,” she murmured. Lennier’s heart sank at the worry in her tone. He _hated_ the idea that he had caused her suffering in any way, even if there was nothing he could have done to prevent it.

“Come, let’s get you off of your feet.” Delenn guided him over to the couch and then lowered him gently onto it before sitting next to him. Lennier barely resisted the urge to slouch wearily against the cushions – just the short walk from his quarters to Delenn’s had exhausted him. Delenn pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, and Lennier could not help but lean into the coolness of her touch. Why did his face feel so hot when the rest of him was cold? It did not make sense.

“You are running a fever,” she commented, the worry in her voice increasing, much to Lennier’s chagrin, “and you are shivering. This is more than a cold, Lennier. I think you’ve got this awful Drazian flu that’s been going around the station.”

Lennier sighed softly. He had suspected as much, but he had not wanted to admit it to himself or to Delenn. He could feel Vir’s gaze on him, also full of concern, from across the room. As miserable as his illness was making him feel, he felt all the worse for having caused his friends distress of any amount.

“I would ask what you were thinking even trying to come to work, but I know you. It would take far more than the flu to make you voluntarily take the day off,” Delenn said softly, a combination of affection and sadness mingling in her expression. “At least you did not try to hide it from me this time – in that, you did well. But you must go and see Doctor Franklin, and then straight back to your quarters to rest.”

Lennier automatically began to protest. “But Delenn…”

“Lennier.” Delenn’s tone was tender, and her gray eyes were overflowing with loving concern. “Be honest with me – do you _really_ feel well enough to work today?”

He almost insisted he was fine – the need to stop Delenn from worrying about him was truly automatic. But then another coughing fit struck him and his chest burned and his head spun and all he wanted was to just _lie down_. And he knew Delenn was right.

“No,” he whispered, his eyes cast downward in defeat. He felt Delenn’s hand cup his chin and gently tilt his face up so that she could look into his eyes.

“I am sorry you are ill, Lennier,” she murmured, moving her hand away from his face to squeeze his hand. “But you know I worry about your health.” 

Her concern was touching – he felt honored that she cared so much for his wellbeing – but it was also well founded. Despite having taken his injection that morning, he knew he ought to get his antibody level tested. Delenn knew that too, and they both had found out the hard way what could happen if that level got too low. As terrible as Lennier felt about worrying her now, it would be all the worse if he ended up back on his deathbed with sepsis again. He felt guilty now for not having gone to Medlab when he had first realized he was ill, especially after having recently concealed an illness from Delenn for four days, resulting in him ending up desperately unwell and worrying her even more and just making everything worse. He supposed he just had not wanted to admit to himself that his ability to do his work – which was, of course, to serve Delenn – had been compromised. But over the past year and a half, their friendship had developed into something incredibly deep and wonderful, and Lennier knew that she cared about him just as he cared about her. And she had every reason to worry about his health.

“I know,” he whispered. “And you’re right. I will go see Doctor Franklin.” He got slowly to his feet, stumbling just the tiniest bit as his dizziness intensified at the change in position. Delenn instinctively reached out a hand to steady him.

“Would you like me to walk with you?”

“Or me?” offered Vir. The Centauri had been quiet until now, sitting on the other side of Delenn’s quarters, allowing Lennier and Delenn to have their moment. Lennier was immensely appreciative of his respect and tact.

“No, thank you, I…I will be all right. Medlab is not far from here.”

Delenn looked him up and down with just a bit of doubt, but she did not argue with him.

“All right. I will check on you this evening, when Vir and I have finished working for the day.”

Not so long ago, Lennier would have protested, saying Delenn needn’t inconvenience herself on his account, and that _he_ should be serving _her_ , not the other way around. But as his experiences a few months ago and the previous year had taught him, friendship was a two-way street. And that included allowing your friend to take care of you sometimes, especially when that person had also sworn herself to a life of service. He managed a weak smile.

“Thank you, Delenn. Your visit will be a bright moment in a difficult day.” He looked from Delenn to Vir, and then back to Delenn again. “I am sorry I cannot work on the jumpgates project with you. I was rather looking forward to it.”

“We’ll be okay,” Vir reassured him. “I mean, it won’t be the same without you, but we’ll manage.” While Vir also looked concerned about Lennier’s wellbeing, his expression held more pity than anything else. He did not know about Lennier’s genetic condition, and so did not realize just how dangerous any illness could be for him. He probably just felt bad that his friend was so miserable. Lennier smiled appreciatively at him.

Delenn squeezed Lennier’s hand again. “You go to Medlab now, and then get right to work on feeling better.”

“I will,” he reassured her. “I will see you tonight.” And then he left, walking at an agonizingly slow pace down the hallway, arms wrapped around himself for warmth, his heart aching and full of love all at the same time.

 

Lennier was lying awake in his bed when the door chime rang early that evening. The walk to and from Medlab had taken every ounce of strength he had had, and he had spent most of the day asleep. He had woken around mid afternoon and managed to drag himself to the kitchen for a glass of water – Doctor Franklin had told him to drink plenty of fluids, and Lennier intended to follow his advice to the letter because he knew by now that the better care he took of himself, the less Delenn would worry. Then he had gone straight back to bed and curled up again, ready to go back to sleep. But the effort of merely walking to the kitchen and back had set him off coughing again. When he had finally regained control of himself, his chest and throat hurt too much to go back to sleep, so he had just laid in bed, unable to help feeling sorry for himself, until the chime sounded.

“Come…come in,” he croaked, barely able to put enough substance behind his voice for it to be picked up by the speaker. The door swung open and Delenn stepped inside, bearing a rather large bag. Lennier slowly eased himself off of his bed to greet her. After a moment’s consideration, he kept the thick, fluffy blue blanket that had kept him at least acceptably warm for most of the day wrapped around his shoulders.

“That is a very warm-looking blanket,” laughed Delenn, hoisting the bag onto the kitchen counter. Lennier supposed he probably did look a little funny, all swallowed up by the huge covering. “Although I must say I am surprised a Minbari aboard a human space station would own such a thick blanket.”

“It is actually Vir’s,” explained Lennier, stifling a wince at how hoarse his voice sounded. “During all those times he came to visit me while I was recovering from sepsis, he never once mentioned how cold he was in my quarters.” He stopped to cough, bracing himself for another lengthy fit, but mercifully he regained the ability to breathe fairly quickly this time. “But then he and I and Marcus started having movie nights here regularly, and one night Vir just started shivering and said he couldn’t take how cold it was in my quarters anymore. He marched back to his quarters and returned with this. He keeps it here now. I hope he doesn’t mind my using it.” Minbari were adapted to relative cold, while Centauri much preferred their environment to be very warm. Whenever Lennier visited Vir in his quarters, he always found himself needing to shed the outermost layer of his robes. This was technically a violation of Minbari ritual and etiquette, but Vir and Marcus had both promised not to tell anyone.

“I am sure he will not mind in the least,” said Delenn warmly, guiding Lennier over to the couch and sitting him down as she had done that morning. “How are you feeling, Lennier?”

“Not particularly well,” he admitted truthfully. “I’m cold and exhausted, and I can’t seem to stop coughing.”

“You are still feverish,” observed Delenn after a moment of resting the back of her hand against his forehead. “What did Doctor Franklin say?”

“That you were right about it being the Drazian flu.”

Delenn seemed less than pleased that she had guessed correctly. She chewed her bottom lip reflexively.

“Don’t worry,” Lennier reassured her, wrapping Vir’s blanket more tightly around himself to cover up a shiver. He doubted it fooled Delenn – after having cared for Lennier through his long illnesses and even longer convalescences recently, she could probably see right through every suppressed cough, sniffle, and shiver he attempted to conceal. But Lennier just could not seem to help hiding any sort of discomfort from her in an automatic attempt to keep her sheltered from worry. “Doctor Franklin said my antibody titer was adequate to protect me against a _Pseudocyanin ubique_ infection, even though my immune system is busy fighting the flu. As long as I keep taking my injections twice a day – which of course I fully intend to do – this shouldn’t turn dangerous.”

Delenn sighed shakily, tension clearly rushing out of her system. “That is good news, Lennier. I am very relieved to hear it.”

“I thought you might be.” He smiled affectionately at her, but the moment was ruined by his seemingly ever-present need to cough. Delenn squeezed his hand and held it until he’d finished, then asked,

“Did the doctor prescribe anything else?”

“He gave me some pills to help clear my chest, but I am afraid all they seem to be doing is making my cough worse. Other than that, just rest and fluids. The doctor says the virus should run its course in a few days.” Lennier sighed in frustration. “Which is a few days too long, if you ask me.”

“I am sorry you cannot join Vir and I on the jumpgates project, “murmured Delenn.

“It isn’t your fault, Delenn.” Lennier knew she was only expressing sympathy rather than actually apologizing for something out of her control, but he still could not help but be just a little mortified that she would say she was sorry for something she could not influence, especially when she had been so kind to Lennier already.

“I know. But I know you were looking forward to the two of us working with Vir. And we both miss you.”

The pang Lennier felt at the reminder of what he was missing out on was soothed by the warmth he felt at how much Delenn cared.

“How is the project going?” He tried to move the conversation in a direction that wouldn’t cause him to wallow in self-pity quite so awfully.

“It is going well, although of course it is not the same without you.” Delenn got to her feet, motioning for Lennier to stay seated when he attempted to follow her. “But we shall save work talk for dinner. I do not want your soup to get cold.”

“Oh Delenn, you did not need to do that…”

“I believe I actually did,” she contradicted affectionately. “If I were a gambler, I would bet you have not eaten a single thing all day.” She turned around from where she stood at the counter to look at him meaningfully.

Lennier sighed, defeated. “You would have won that bet.”

“You need to keep up your strength, Lennier,” she chided gently.

“I know. I just haven’t felt hungry. I think it’s the fever.” Lennier sighed. He wanted to eat because he knew it would make Delenn happy. And he did not feel particularly nauseous – that was one of the only things that did not seem to be going wrong with his body at that moment. But still, food in general did not sound even remotely good to him right now.

“Think of it this way,” said Delenn, spooning some of the steaming concoction into a bowl and bringing it on a tray over to Lennier. “The soup will help you feel warmer.”

“That is true,” said Lennier thoughtfully. He examined his meal curiously – this particular type of soup was unfamiliar to him. He instinctively tried to sniff at it, but quickly realized this was futile – his nose was much too stuffed to smell anything.

“The café was all out of split Chudomo seed soup,” said Delenn by way of explanation. “This is a human recipe, called ‘chicken noodle’. Apparently it is common fare in times of illness. The worker at the café told me it is a bit too bland for Minbari tastes, so she added some spice.”

Despite his lack of enthusiasm for eating, Lennier steeled himself and ladled a small amount of the steaming liquid into his mouth. He tried his very hardest to put on a convincing face of enjoyment, but of course Delenn was not fooled for a moment.

“You cannot taste it at all, can you?”

Lennier shook his head. “I am sorry. You were so kind to get it for me. And it isn’t the soup, I don’t think – I am just too congested to taste anything. But it is warm, and therefore it is wonderful, whether I can taste it or not. Thank you, Delenn.”

“You are most welcome,” she said with an affectionate smile.

As Lennier ate the rest of his tasteless but warm soup, Delenn told him about her day and how the jumpgates project was progressing. It sounded like it would take several days – Lennier wondered if he would be well enough to go back to the work before it finished. When he had eaten his dinner, Delenn made sure he had taken his antibody injection and then put the rest of the soup in the refrigerator.

“Delenn,” Lennier said, his eyes widening at the sight of the enormous container. “Just how much soup did you get?”

“Hopefully enough to see you through the worst of this flu. There is nothing more soothing than soup – and nothing that makes for easier leftovers. I know you, Lennier, and I know that you are unlikely to eat while you are ill. Unless I bring you food – then you would not think to repay my kindness with a refusal to eat.”

Lennier chuckled. “And _I_ know _you_ well enough to have guessed that was your motivation. But thank you, Delenn. I mean it. You are too kind to me.”

Delenn sat back down next to him on the couch. “Well, you are my aide _and_ my best friend. I have a vested interest in your wellbeing.” He smiled, and she squeezed his hand. “All right, back to bed with you. Call me in the morning so I don’t spend the day worrying about you.”

“I will.” Lennier allowed Delenn to wrap her arms around him before returning her embrace. “And thank you again, Delenn.”

“You are most welcome, my dear. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

After Delenn left, Lennier lay back down on his bed, his heart feeling warm. Two years ago, he would been nothing short of horrified at the idea that Delenn would be bringing him soup and taking care of him while he was ill. But much had changed with the brush with mortality that had been his bout of sepsis, including the nature of his relationship with Delenn. They were equals now, even though sometimes Lennier still found himself slipping into his old habits of reverence. But he had learned to accept and even enjoy it when Delenn doted on him. It made her less worried, and that made him happy.

He lay in bed, thinking of Delenn and how wonderful her attention made him feel and how lucky he was to have her as a friend and mentor. He felt a bit more comfortable than he had earlier, so much so that he found himself drifting off. He was _almost_ asleep when the door chime sounded again.

“Who is it?” he mumbled, wincing at the aches in his muscles as he slowly sat up.

“It’s Vir,” said the somewhat nervous voice over the speaker. “I…I wanted to see how you were.”

Lennier sighed internally. He would be better if he were allowed to sleep, he thought. But he _had_ missed spending time with Vir today, and his Centauri friend had looked quite worried as Lennier had left Delenn’s quarters that morning. Even though Vir was not aware of Lennier’s genetic condition – the only people besides the medical staff who knew about it were Delenn, Marcus, and more recently Captain Sheridan – he was doubtlessly having flashbacks to the previous times Lennier had been ill. Lennier couldn’t blame him for being concerned.

“Come in,” he said, carefully lowering himself to the floor once more, keeping the thick blue blanket wrapped snugly about his shoulders. The door opened and Vir stepped over the threshold, holding a small paper bag in one hand.

“Hey,” he said before observing, “I see my blanket is coming in handy.”

“I hope you don’t mind my using it,” murmured Lennier. “I’ve been chilled to the bone all day. Nothing I’ve got seems to keep me warm.”

“No, I don’t mind at all!” exclaimed Vir. “Of course you’re more than welcome to use it!

“Thank you.” Lennier sniffled. There was a slightly awkward pause before Vir pointed out,

“You’re out of bed. That’s good.”

“I’m _barely_ out of bed,” sighed Lennier. His weariness overcame him again, and he abandoned the polite ritual of standing to greet a guest in favor of sinking into one of his dining chairs. Vir took his cue and sat down as well.

“Are you okay? You seemed awfully sick this morning. I was worried all day. So was Delenn, I could tell. Did she come to see you already?”

The rapid onslaught of questions made Lennier feel even more exhausted than he already had. But Vir’s genuine concern warmed his heart, in a similar but not identical way to Delenn’s. Lennier managed a smile.

“I’m all right. Doctor Franklin says I have the Drazian flu. Delenn brought me soup a little while ago.” He coughed, wincing at the pain in his chest. Vir’s expression contorted sympathetically.

“Have you been coughing like that all day?” Lennier nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak just yet.

“Did Doctor Franklin give you something for it?”

Lennier experimented with talking. “It was supposed to help clear my chest, and it is, but I can’t stop coughing.” He sighed and pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. The peace and comfort he had felt during Delenn’s visit was wearing off. It wasn’t that he did not want to see Vir – he very much appreciated his friend coming to check up on him. But Lennier needed more sleep, and he thought his fever might be rising again - he was cold. But the worst was his chest. It really hurt to cough, but he just couldn’t seem to stop.

“Actually…I brought you something that might help,” Vir began hesitantly, reaching inside the paper bag he had brought with him and pulling out a bottle that seemed to contain a dark green liquid. “After seeing how sick you were this morning and how bad your cough was, I…wanted to do something to help you feel better. The Centauri have medicine that would take care of this kind of thing completely within a day. But our government doesn’t like to share that kind of thing, so it’s very difficult to get if you aren’t on Centauri Prime.” Vir’s sigh was a little bitter, but he continued. “So I knew I would have to try something different. The chemist’s shop in the Zocalo has medicines for colds and flus and the like, so I went there. The selection was a bit overwhelming, but then Mister Allan came over – apparently this flu is making its rounds around the security office as well. I told him I had a friend who has the flu and asked if he had any suggestions for something to help him, and he handed me this.” He handed the bottle to Lennier, who accepted it with less curiosity than he would normally display. “He called it ‘cough syrup’. Hopefully it will help make you a bit more comfortable.”

“Thank you, Vir,” murmured Lennier. “It was so thoughtful of you to get this for me.” He smiled weakly, hoping it was enough to convey the sincerity of his words. It was all he could manage, really – his head felt fuzzy and he wanted desperately to go back to sleep. But he knew he had succeeded when Vir smiled brightly.

“You’re welcome! I just wish I could help more.”

“I am sure this will help immensely,” Lennier reassured him. He removed the small cup that was overturned on top of the bottle cap and squinted at it, his feverish mind struggling to process what to do with it.

“You pour the medicine into the cup until it reaches that line,” said Vir, pointing.

Lennier smiled a quick thanks, and with hands that shook only a little, followed his friend’s instructions. Then, he tipped the contents of the cup into his mouth in one swallow. He was unable to stop himself from grimacing – the dark green concoction tasted _terrible_. The smell from the couple of drops of medicine left in the cup wafted up to his nose – it was so strong, even his compromised nose could detect it. The stuff even _smelled_ awful, but also vaguely familiar. It smelled almost like…

_No._

Lennier’s heart skipped a beat. He grabbed the bottle and turned it around in his hands until he located the ingredients label. He scanned it, praying he wouldn’t find what he thought he might. But then his gaze settled on it, and Lennier felt his stomach flip over with fear and dread.

“Lennier?” Vir had clearly noticed that something was amiss. “What’s wrong?”

Lennier slowly looked up, his eyes wide as they met his friend’s.

“Vir,” he whispered hoarsely. He fought to keep his voice calm, but he could not stop it from trembling. “You need to leave. For your own safety, you have to get out. Right now.”


	2. Vir

For a moment, all Vir could do was blink confusedly. Everything had been going so well. He’d given Lennier the medicine and Lennier had been grateful. And Vir had thought that maybe he’d made things just the tiniest bit better for his poor friend. That was all Vir wanted, really – help. But suddenly things had gone terribly wrong, and Vir did not know where they had taken a turn for the worse.

“What?” he all but whispered, feeling terribly confused and admittedly quite worried. Lennier seemed very upset.

“Vir, you have to go!” Lennier’s expression, a moment ago exhausted but grateful, had suddenly changed into one of desperation. “Vir, _please._ ”

He was _begging_. Lennier was _begging_. That wasn’t right. Lennier was so proud and poised. Even when the young Minbari was recovering from serious illness and was completely dependent on his friends for help with even the simplest of tasks, Vir had never seen him lose his composure (except during the times a high fever affected his mind, but those didn’t count). But the fear in his eyes right now was something terrifyingly close to panic. Vir didn’t know what was wrong, but he wanted to help.

“I’m sorry, Lennier, but I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.” The stubbornness took effort, but if putting his foot down was what it took to help his friend, then that was what Vir would do.

Exasperation edged at the fear in Lennier’s tone and expression. “Vir, there is _alcohol_ in this medicine.”

“Alco- _what_? Let me see that.” Vir snatched the bottle and scanned the ingredient list. He felt sick when he settled on what he hadn’t wanted to believe he’d find there.

“Oh,” he said quietly, fear beginning to claw its way through his chest. “This is bad.”

“This is very bad,” echoed Lennier hopelessly. He was staring straight in front of him, his gaze slightly unfocused. Vir wondered if the effects of the alcohol were already beginning to take hold. He tried to recall when Lennier had explained to him why Minbari could not drink alcohol. It had been nearly four years ago - the first time the two had met, in fact - so Vir’s memory was a bit blurred. But he seemed to remember Lennier saying something about even one sip causing homicidal rages and uncontrollable psychotic impulses.

“Lennier, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…” Vir began, overwhelming guilt beginning to manifest. “I didn’t mention it was for you, so Mister Allan couldn’t have known. I should have looked at the label, or asked what was in it, or _something_ …”

“Vir!” Lennier cut him off, his gaze suddenly snapping to meet Vir’s. “There’s no time for that now. Every second you are here, you are in more and more danger. Vir, I could _kill_ you.” He seemed to be trying to stifle a sob. “Please Vir, you _must_ go. _Now._ ”

Vir almost obeyed him. He had no doubts that this could turn out to be every bit as serious as Lennier was making it seem – Minbari were not prone to exaggeration, and had he had any reservations before, Lennier’s reaction now would have chased them away entirely. And Vir had what he at least liked to think was a healthy sense of self-preservation.

But then Lennier doubled over again, coughing and gasping for air, grabbing the edge of the table to steady himself even though he was sitting down. And Vir’s self-preservation was won over by his compassion and sense of loyalty. Lennier was sick – leaving him alone to deal with something like this would be positively cruel.

“I’m staying right here.” Vir found himself having to manufacture a firmness in his voice that was strong enough to counter Lennier’s pleas.

“Vir, you _can’t_ …”

“I can and I will. It’s my fault you’re in this mess, Lennier.”

“The punishment for an honest mistake should not be death. Please, I do not want to hurt you. Don’t make me live with having hurt you, Vir.”

Lennier’s argument was a compelling one, and the desperation in his voice made it all the worse. Vir forced himself to shut it out.

“But Lennier, if you can hurt me, then surely you could also hurt yourself. You shouldn’t be left alone…”

“I SAID _GET OUT_!” Lennier screamed, his eyes flashing with an anger Vir had never even thought him capable of. But the effort of yelling was far too much for Lennier’s battered throat and chest to bear, and he dissolved into yet another paroxysm of coughing. Hesitantly, Vir reached out to lay his hand on his friend’s shoulder. Lennier stiffened at his touch and jerked away. Vir withdrew his hand immediately.

“Maybe we should call Doctor Franklin?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Lennier managed to choke. He was still trying to regain his ability to breathe properly. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. The more people I come into contact with, the worse it will be.” He winced as he spoke, probably the result of his painful throat.

“All right, security then. They could put you in a holding cell until this has passed.” Vir was not pleased with the idea of Lennier in a cold, uncomfortable cell in his current state. Psychosis or not, he ought to be in a warm bed. But this situation had taken a far turn from ideal.

Lennier emitted a barking, mirthless laugh that sounded nothing like the Lennier Vir knew. “If as much of the security force has contracted this Valen-foresaken flu as you say, they don’t stand a chance. You ought to ask your friend Mister Allan about the time I knocked him unconscious with a single _tha’mora_. They would never get me into a holding cell.”

Vir decided it prudent _not_ to point out that Lennier also had the flu and was therefore significantly weaker than he normally was, as well. Who knew? Maybe alcohol made Minbari, who were already strong, even stronger. For his own sake, Vir fervently hoped not.

“What about Delenn? Having her around always helps calm you down, right?”

He regretted asking the question the moment it had come out of his mouth. The horror in Lennier’s eyes gave him all the answer he needed.

“Vir.” The Minbari’s voice was calm, but not a reassuring kind of calm. It was a dangerous calm, and for a moment Vir wished Lennier would just scream at him again. “Vir, you _cannot_ call Delenn. She must _not_ come here, under any circumstances. No matter what happens over the next few hours, I must _not_ get close to Delenn. You mustn’t let it happen. You did this, Vir. You owe me this much. You _cannot. Let. Me. Hurt. Delenn_.”

Vir knew that the alcohol was beginning to affect his friend’s mind and that Lennier probably could not be held responsible for anything he said over the next few hours, but the accusation in his voice still hit Vir like a knife to the heart. _You did this, Vir._ That was true. But he hadn’t meant to. All he had wanted to do was help.

But Lennier was talking about the one thing in his life that he cared about more than absolutely anything else. The person he would give anything, _do_ anything to protect. Even now, as the forbidden substance wreaked havoc with his brain chemistry, turning Vir’s sweet friend into a monster, Lennier put Delenn’s protection at the forefront. And he was right – ensuring Delenn’s safety was the least Vir could do.

“Okay. I won’t call her. And if she comes, I won’t let her near you. I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Lennier whispered. He rested his arms on the table and laid his head down on them, shaking. Vir wondered if it was due to the fever or Lennier’s struggle to hold his steadily increasing psychotic impulses at bay. He could not help but hope it was only the former. Vir wanted so badly to reach out and touch his friend, to lay a comforting hand on his arm and let him know that it would be all right, that he did not need to go through this alone. But that had not been well-received last time, and Vir did not wish to tempt fate even more than he already was. So he just sat there in silence and watched his friend, his sense of guilt and foreboding intensifying with every passing moment. Lennier remained in that position, motionless but for the shaking, for several minutes – minutes that seemed like an eternity to Vir.

Then suddenly, Lennier began to raise his head very slowly. Vir swallowed a lump in his throat when he realized that the eyes that looked into his own were not those of the Lennier he knew. Not at all. Where he was accustomed to seeing enthusiasm and affection, there was now anger and mockery. The Minbari uttered a low chuckle, hoarse from his cough but still haunting enough to send chills down Vir’s spine.

“Why are you still here, Centauri?” That voice, though soft spoken as ever, had a quality of cruelty that Vir would never have associated with Lennier. “Don’t you know you’re no match for me? Your people fight with swords. You pride yourselves so much on this aspect of your heritage, just as you pride yourselves on everything about your _grand_ history. Do you know what the _great_ Centauri Republic is built upon, Vir?” Lennier’s eyes narrowed, his teeth flashing in a derisive smile. “ _Hubris._ That’s what. A quality so weak that your empire would fall with but a whisper of wind. So fragile, just like your people. Minbar and its children laugh in the face of your weakness. I could kill you with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back.”

“But you won’t.” Vir wished he sounded more confident, but his insides felt like they had turned to jelly. It was like someone had plucked his friend out of his body and replaced him with someone cold-blooded and full of hatred.

“Don’t tempt me,” Lennier growled, and for a moment, Vir thought he saw a flash of familiarity in those eyes. Perhaps the real Lennier was in still in there somewhere, restraining his body from actually hurting Vir.

“Lennier,” began Vir slowly, hoping against hope that maybe he could appeal to that deep-down part of his friend’s soul. He stood and began to walk hesitantly around the table so that he could be close to Lennier, hoping his presence might help get through to him somehow. But Lennier saw him coming and leapt to his feet, his honed Minbari agility tempered by his weakness. He swayed and reached out to steady himself on the back of the chair in which he had been sitting.

“Lennier, it’s okay,” Vir continued to move closer to his friend, one step at a time. Lennier, eyes wide with what looked like a combination between panic and anger, stepped backward.

“It’s me, Vir. I know a lot of things are happening in your brain right now, but it’ll be okay. It’ll be over soon – the alcohol will wear off and everything will be all right again. I know you don’t _really_ want to hurt me, and that you don’t mean the things you’re saying. It…it’s going to be okay, Lennier. Don’t worry.”

Lennier launched himself at Vir so quickly that Vir barely knew what hit him. All he knew was that he was suddenly flattened against the wall, Lennier’s shockingly strong fingers wrapped tightly around his throat.

“I don’t _really_ want to hurt you, hmm?” Lennier’s entire body shook visibly, but he did not relent in his grip. “Would you care to take that thought back?”

“ _Lennier_ ,” Vir gasped. “Lennier, I c…can’t b…breathe.” Black spots rimmed with the colors of an Earth rainbow were beginning to dance across his vision, and he felt dizzy. “P…please, Lennier.”

Lennier’s eyes got even wider as Vir protested, and Vir began to regret ignoring Lennier’s warnings and staying - just a little bit. After all, what good would he be in ensuring his friend did not endure his trial alone if he himself were dead?

Just as the stars threatened to take over Vir’s vision entirely, Lennier’s trembling arm suddenly seemed to give out, likely as a result of the muscle aches and weakness brought on by the flu. Vir was barely able to stop himself from crumpling to the floor. It took him several seconds’ worth of coughing, choking, and gasping to regain his ability to breathe enough to _do_ anything. By that time, Lennier had recovered enough to his strength to turn back on Vir and launch himself at him again. The Minbari threw everything he had into the attack. All of his body weight and weakened might were turned toward one goal – hurting Vir. Despite still panting for air, Vir managed to sidestep just in time to avoid Lennier, sending his attacker crashing into the wall. Because Lennier hit his head face-first, his headbone did little to protect him and he swayed for a moment before falling to the ground and lying motionless.

“Lennier!” gasped Vir, his voice hoarse from having his larynx compressed. He dropped to his knees beside his friend. For a moment, he could not see Lennier breathing and he feared he had hit his head in just the right way to kill himself. But then Lennier gasped. Vir allowed himself about half a second of relief before remembering how much danger he was in by being _this_ close to Lennier. So as Lennier groaned and rolled over, undoubtedly trying to regain enough presence of mind and physical strength to attack Vir again, Vir cast his gaze frantically around the room until it settled on Lennier’s boots, which stood in the corner. He hurried to them and within a few seconds, he had removed the lace from one of them. Lennier had just managed to sit up when Vir returned. Moving with an uncharacteristic swiftness – no doubt brought on by an intense drive for self-preservation – Vir pinned the still-dazed Lennier’s hands behind his back and tied them together with the shoelace. Lennier emitted a snarling noise, his eyes flashing, when he realized what Vir had done.

“You idiot! You think this will hold me? A simple boot lace is no match for my self-defense training!”

“I know,” sighed Vir, worriedly. “I’m just hoping it will distract you for a little while.”

As Lennier struggled against the shoelace binding his hands, Vir went over to the BabCom unit on the wall. He had promised he would not call the medics, or security, or Delenn. But there was one person on the station he _could_ call, who just _might_ be able to help.

“Call Marcus Cole.”

“What?” Lennier stopped struggling for a moment, his eyes wide.

“I can’t do this alone, Lennier. You’ve already tried to choke the life out of me once. I’m not trained in any type of combat or self-defense, but Marcus is great at that stuff. I mean, he’s a Ranger.”

“I said not to call anyone!”

“Please don’t yell, Lennier. You’ll set yourself off coughing again.” 

“You’d better stay over there, Centauri,” growled Lennier, his voice low and menacing. Or at least, it would have been more menacing if he wasn’t so hoarse. “Come over here and I’ll kill you, hands tied behind my back or not.”

“I’m sure you would,” Vir reassured him as Marcus answered.

“Vir?” The Ranger wrinkled his brow in confusion. “The BabCom said you were calling from Lennier’s quarters. Where’s Lennier?”

“I’m being held prisoner against my will!” yelled Lennier from where he still sat sprawled on the ground over by the wall. Both the cry and the subsequent coughing fit obviously reached the speaker, because Marcus’s looked even more confused.

“What…?”

“Marcus, we have a problem, and I need your help,” Vir summed up quickly.

“He tried to…poison me!” choked Lennier. Confusion and worry contorted Marcus’s features.

“Lennier accidentally ingested some alcohol.” Marcus’s eyes became the approximate size of dinner plates at this news. “Also he has the Drazian flu, and maybe a concussion now. I’m not going to be able to keep him tied up for long. I can’t control him – even weakened he’s far too much for me. But you…”

“No pathetic human is a match for a Minbari. We possess far superior physical and mental strength,” snarled Lennier. They both ignored him this time.

“I’ll bring my _Denn’bok_ ,” said Marcus, making to hurry away from the screen.

“Your stick thingy?” Vir’s heart jumped into his chest. “Marcus, I know he’s not himself, but we can’t _hurt_ him. Or at least not on purpose. Him running into the wall was mostly his own doing. Anyway, my point is, this is _Lennier_ we’re talking about. He’s our friend – we can’t hurt him, Marcus. We just can’t.”

“I hope you don’t think that will stop me from hurting you, you disgustingly soft-hearted Centauri,” Lennier hissed.

Marcus sighed, sounding resigned.

“Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Vir shuddered as Marcus hung up. The thought of purposefully harming Lennier, with his fragile health and kind personality, was positively inconceivable to him. But now, as he turned to observe his friend, who was struggling to try to stand but was in his weakness unable to without the use of his hands to support him, he did not see the caring expression he was used to. Those were the eyes of a psychotic killer ready to tear him limb from limb. Or at least, he would if he were not feverish and spent and tied up with a bootlace. Lennier narrowed his eyes and made a little growling noise in his throat. It would have been unnerving but for the fact that it was punctuated by a cough. Even though his neck still throbbed from where Lennier had attempted to throttle him, Vir thought that he had seen more convincing villains in his life.


	3. Marcus

Marcus made it to Lennier’s quarters in record time – less than ten minutes after he had terminated the call with Vir. He rung the chime and the door swung open immediately. When he stepped across the threshold, he beheld a sight he never would have thought he would live to see.

Vir stood nervously in one corner of the single room that made up Lennier’s living space, while near the opposite wall, Lennier sat sprawled awkwardly on the floor. Both his wrists and ankles were bound with what appeared to be shoelaces – Vir must have added one to the ankles - and he looked to be trembling a bit. When he heard Marcus come in, however, he snapped to attention, narrowing his eyes and fidgeting fiercely, struggling against his bonds.

“Cut me loose, human, if you know what is good for you.” Lennier was obviously attempting to sound menacing, but his cracking and raspy voice completely ruined the effect. Marcus’s friend looked even paler than his normal Minbari self, and his brown eyes were glassy – he was definitely _not_ well. Nevertheless, Lennier stared Marcus down with the ferocity of a territorial Rottweiler.

“Not just yet,” Marcus replied gently. “We need to give the alcohol time to work its way through your system first. We just want to keep everyone safe, that’s all.”

“If you think you are safe with me bound, you have a woefully lacking perception of your current situation,” hissed Lennier. “Your pitiful Ranger skills are no match for my…Minbari…strength.” The last couple of words were broken by a fit of deep, chesty coughs. Marcus winced sympathetically.

“True though that may be, Lennier, I don’t think you’re in any condition to fight anyone right now. You’re quite ill; you ought to be in bed resting.” Marcus approached Lennier slowly as Vir looked on, remaining silent. Lennier watched Marcus like a hawk, completely still but for the barely perceptible trembles of fever and weakness. “I know you must feel terrible – you’re exhausted and it hurts to cough and breathe, and all you want to do is lie down. Wouldn’t it feel so nice to just lie down and sleep right now?”

Lennier looked almost wistful at that thought as Marcus bent down beside him. Marcus hoped that if he could make Lennier realize that he understood what he was going through and provide him with the physical closeness that he knew was comforting to him, he might break through the alcohol-induced barrier that was shrouding his real friend, the real Lennier. With agonizing slowness, he reached out to lay his hand on Lennier’s shoulder. But the moment his fingertips brushed his friend’s nightshirt, the Minbari whirled so quickly that Marcus did not have time to process what was happening until after two bound feet had struck him squarely in the ribcage and sent him flying backward onto the floor.

“Marcus!” He barely heard Vir yell his name worriedly as he gasped for the breath that had been thoroughly knocked out of him by the kick. After several seconds of oxygen-deprived panic, he could once again fill his lungs with air. It was not until then that the pain hit him.

“Marcus, are you okay?” Vir rushed to kneel at his side, just out of reach of all of Lennier’s body parts. The bound Minbari looked as though he wanted to crawl over and attack Marcus again, but he could not figure out how.

“Yes,” Marcus wheezed. “Think…ribs…broken…but…okay.”

“Oh gods,” muttered Vir. “This is all my fault. All of it.”

Marcus winced and sat up as Vir moved his hand behind his back to support him. “Doesn’t matter now.” There, he’d strung three whole words together. He was fine. He shut his eyes and took a few measured breaths until his mind and body calibrated to the pain – it was a technique he had learned in Ranger training. Like all of them, it tended to be effective. There. He could at least function now.

He turned back to Lennier, who seemed to have quite suddenly abandoned his spite-fueled crusade to injure Marcus further. The Minbari now lay fully flat on his side, his eyes shut tightly, as though he were in pain. Marcus felt worry flutter within his painful thorax.

Vir noticed it, too. “Marcus,” he whispered, “just what exactly happens when a Minbari drinks alcohol? I mean, how does this end?”

Marcus shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. Minbari are so careful about it that I’ve never seen this happen before, and I’ve never heard of anyone who’s had it happen to them, either.”

“Oh,” said Vir softly. “It’s only that…he doesn’t look good, Marcus.”

He was right. Marcus saw Lennier swallow hard as he gingerly approached him, but the Minbari did not open his eyes. “Lennier,” he murmured, being careful not to touch him this time. “What’s the matter?”

Lennier looked at him then with wide, vaguely panicky eyes. “I…I feel strange, Marcus.” Gone suddenly was the menace, the taunt. In their place was fear and discomfort. _This_ was the ill Lennier Marcus was accustomed to. But he needed to be careful - it could be an act, meant to lure him into comfort before Lennier turned on him again.

“I know,” he soothed. “The alcohol is having a lot of effects on your body that you weren’t prepared for, especially since you were ill already. But it’s going to be all right – Vir and I are here to support you and get you through this. And when things aren’t so unpredictable, Delenn will be here, too.”

A light bulb seemed to switch on behind Lennier’s eyes.

“Delenn?” He sounded desperate with hope and love.

Marcus nodded. “Yes, of course. You know she’d never leave you when you’re unwell. She’ll be here soon to keep you company.”

Marcus had heard the expression “burst into tears” many a time, but never had he seen it so embodied before. In a split second, Lennier was suddenly a bawling mess. Marcus glanced up at Vir, who looked as horrified as he felt. The alcohol was certainly causing a broad range of effects in their friend.

“What’s wrong, Lennier?” Vir, his worries for his friend finally overwhelming his fear, came to kneel at Lennier’s other side.

The sobbing Minbari could scarcely choke out anything remotely understandable. “D…Delenn.”

Marcus felt fear leap into his throat. Was there something he didn’t know?

“What about her?”

Lennier’s lip trembled and tears poured from his wide eyes, his voice hitching with nearly every word. “She…she’s my b…best friend and…and she d…does s…so m…much for me. I…I don’t know w…what I’d do if she w…wasn’t there. And…I t…try so hard to…to be a good aide and…and friend and serve her the b…best way I can but…” He broke off as a sob turned into a coughing fit. Hesitantly, Marcus reached out to rub his friend’s back. This time, Lennier did not turn on him; he merely whimpered with emotion and the pain in his chest. The anger and psychosis seemed to have resolved at long last. Lennier continued, the need to get out what he wanted to say clearly overwhelming him. “…but she w…worries so m…much about me, and w…with good reason. B…But she…she is so g…good to me…and in return for it all I do is worry her. I…I do not d….deserve the love she shows me.”

“Oh Lennier, that’s not true,” Vir reassured, also working up the courage to lay a hand on his friend’s arm. “Delenn loves you for who you are – a really good person who deserves all the love he can possibly get.”

“She’d rather worry about you than not have you around,” Marcus added. “And we feel the same way.”

Lennier sniffled, then winced and adjusted his position on the floor. “You…you do? All three of you?”

Marcus and Vir nodded simultaneously.

“Absolutely, without a doubt,” Marcus reassured him.

For one wonderful moment, Lennier looked as though he were at peace. But then, his eyes became suddenly enormous and his face drained completely of what little color had been there in the first place. Marcus barely had time to move his painful body out of the way as Lennier heaved onto the floor with all his weakened might. Vir looked on with concern and mild disgust, but also uncertainty, as though he was unsure of how he could help, or even if he should. Marcus, on the other hand, had supported Lennier through a very difficult illness in his stomach a few months prior, and he knew exactly what to do. Wincing as his ribs protested the action, he ran a hand beneath Lennier’s torso to support him as he retched over and over again. At long last, Lennier’s abdominal muscles stopped contracting and he swayed slightly. Marcus helped him lay down on the floor, pulling him backward just a bit away from the mess.

“Are you all right?” he asked, worried about what the answer might be as he watched his friend shake in his weakness.

“So that’s what that feeling was,” mumbled Lennier. His skin was so pale it was nearly gray, and his normally bright brown eyes were dull, glassy, and bloodshot.

“It’s probably a good thing, Marcus reassured him. “Your body’s trying to get rid of the alcohol because it knows it shouldn’t be there.” Lennier nodded and swallowed hard, grimacing at the foul taste. Marcus winced inwardly in sympathy. “Is the feeling gone now?”

Lennier paused for a moment, obviously deep in thought, before his eyes widened again and he struggled to sit up against his bonds and his weakness. 

“No it’s not!”

As Marcus hoisted him up yet again, he ordered Vir over his shoulder, “Call Stephen!”

“But…” Vir stammered. “But Lennier said not to call the doctor. He doesn’t want anyone else to get involved because he’s afraid he’ll hurt them.”

“You called me.”

“I was desperate.”

“Vir, he _has_ to go to Medlab!” Lennier shuddered in Marcus’s arms, his eyelids fluttering even as he vomited. “It’s gone beyond protecting everyone else now – if we don’t get Lennier to Medlab, _he’s_ the one that’s going to be in trouble! I don’t know if this is supposed to happen or if it’s just him and the fact that he was already sick when he started, but it doesn’t matter. He needs medical attention.” _And his antibodies. He needs them when his system is stressed, and I’d say this definitely qualifies as one of those times._

“Okay.” Vir shot an apologetic glance at Lennier, but by this point Marcus doubted the Minbari had any inkling of this. He was struggling to stay upright, and possibly even struggling to retain consciousness. Vir instructed the BabCom unit to call the doctor. When Stephen’s face appeared on the screen, he looked automatically worried. Marcus did not suppose he blamed him. Lennier was what the doctor referred to as a “frequent flyer” to Medlab. And when he saw that it was not Lennier who was placing the call, his demeanor grew even graver.

“What’s going on?” His words were hasty and clipped. “Has Lennier’s flu gotten worse?”

“You…you might say that,” said Vir hesitantly.

“What do you mean?”

“He means he tried to poison me,” gasped Lennier, just loud enough for Franklin to hear. _Here we go again,_ thought Marcus.

Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “Vir, what’s going on?”

Vir sighed, deflating in defeat. Even his hair crest seemed to sag a bit.

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”


	4. Delenn

Delenn had just finished her breakfast of tea and spiced porridge when her BabCom unit beeped.

_“Incoming message.”_

“It is a bit early,” she mused aloud. Lennier would definitely be calling her at some point to update her on his condition – for her own peace of mind rather than a determination of whether or not he would be returning to work, as there was no way he would be well enough to come back for at least a couple of days. But she had hoped he would sleep longer before calling.

“Receive.”

When Doctor Stephen Franklin’s face appeared on the screen, Delenn felt her heart somersault in her chest. She hated that – the doctor was her friend, and it was unfair for her to have such negative associations with him. But when Lennier was ill, she could not help it.

“Doctor,” she greeted, her throat suddenly dry despite the cup of tea she had just consumed. “How can I help you?”

“Delenn,” he said, just a bit too calmly, “to start with, you need to know that everything is all right.”

That was not encouraging. “What do you mean?” Her heart pounded in her ears. “Oh Doctor, it’s Lennier, isn’t it?”

“It’s _fine_ ,” he reassured her again. “Or…it is now, anyway. But I think you ought to come to Medlab all the same.”

Delenn was out the door before the call had finished terminating. When she flew through the sliding door of Medlab in what might have been record time, she saw Franklin standing outside the door of one of the general ward rooms with Vir and Marcus. She rushed up to them, ignoring them as they greeted her, so fixated was she on what she saw through the window.

It was Lennier, lying in the bed, all wrapped up in blankets and with an intravenous catheter with two lines coming out of it secured in the crook of his left arm. His eyes were closed and he lay still.

“Lennier!” Delenn half-gasped, half-sobbed.

“Delenn, it’s okay.” Franklin told her for the third time.

“No, it isn’t!” she insisted, trying and failing to hold back tears. “Oh, he’s worse, isn’t he? I was so foolish to think the illness would just run its course this time. It _never_ does. My poor, sweet Lennier…”

“It’s not what you think,” said Franklin when Delenn paused for a shuddering breath. “He’s just been sedated, Delenn. We’re waiting for it to wear off. His flu’s no worse – that’s not why he’s here. He’s going to be _just fine_. But I thought you should know.”

“Know what?” Delenn glanced frantically around at the little group, searching faces for an explanation. Vir lowered his eyes, and Marcus looked vaguely worried.

“Vir?” Franklin prompted. “Given that this was your doing, I think you ought to be the one to explain this to Delenn.”

“It was an accident,” Marcus pointed out, in obvious defense of his friend. It was only then that Delenn noticed that the Ranger held one arm pressed gingerly to his torso, as though guarding it from further pain. And Vir had a large purple-black bruise covering his neck. Delenn’s concern only heightened with these realizations.

“I think,” she said, her voice low and cold, “that someone had better tell me why my best friend is unconscious in Medlab. Right. Now.”

All three of the others winced. Vir looked positively terrified, and normally Delenn would have felt terrible for scaring him so. But she was afraid herself, afraid for Lennier. She had to admit, though, she was impressed that the young Centauri found the strength somewhere inside himself to speak.

“It _was_ my fault,” he said, his eyes fixated on the ground for a moment before meeting Delenn’s with a strong regret. “But it was an accident, Delenn, I swear it! All I wanted to do was help. Poor Lennier, he had such a terrible cough and I just wanted to make him feel a little bit better. So…so I bought him some cough medicine – human cough medicine. I _never_ would have given it to him if I’d known it had alcohol in it!”

_Oh._ So _that_ was the problem. Delenn felt suddenly weary, and she leaned against the wall for support.

“Did he harm you?” Given the state her friends were in, she was afraid to know the answer.

“I’m fine, just a little bruised from where he…tried to strangle me,” Vir winced at the memory. “Marcus has some cracked ribs, but he’ll be okay, too.”

Delenn opened her mouth to apologize on behalf of her friend and aide, but Marcus held up a hand.

“It’s nothing, Delenn. I promise. I’ll be back to sparring in a couple of weeks. I’m just glad Lennier’s all right.”

She sighed shakily and nodded. “He will be mortified to learn that he has hurt you, I am certain. But he _is_ all right then?” Despite having been reassured of this numerous times by this point, she still looked to the doctor for confirmation.

Franklin nodded. “I think the combination of the sympathetic overdrive from the alcohol and the weakness and fever from the flu got to be a little much for him. When he started vomiting, we brought him to Medlab, just to make sure he stayed hydrated. We sedated him just to be on the safe side – he was still a bit…fierce when I arrived.” Franklin cracked a small smile. “I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, let me tell you.”

“Lennier would protect those he loves with his dying breath,” said Delenn. “But I am very glad that did not need to happen last night. Will he wake soon?”

“Fairly soon, I should think,” Franklin told her. “You can sit with him, if you want.”

“Thank you,” Delenn dipped her head at him. “And the two of you as well,” she said to Marcus and Vir, the latter of whom still looked a touch worried. “It sounds like you took very good care of him. I am grateful.”

“But it’s my fault he got into this mess,” said Vir regretfully.

“An honest mistake, and you have more than made up for it with your devotion to Lennier. I am sure he will be most understanding,” Delenn soothed.

Vir nodded, and Marcus grasped his arm gently.

“Come on. Let’s get some ice for my ribs and your neck. We’ll check in on Lennier later.”

Delenn smiled thankfully at him as the two hobbled off, and then entered Lennier’s hospital room and sat in the chair that had already been thoughtfully left at the bedside for her. Now that she looked at him more closely, she could see that Lennier was actually a touch less pale than he had been the previous day, and he seemed to breathe a bit more easily – he wheezed ever so slightly as he exhaled, but she needed to strain to hear it. She smiled affectionately at him and took his hand, and she was relieved to observe that it felt the same temperature as her own – Lennier did not have a fever any more. Despite his misadventures the previous night, a night resting undisturbed while on fluids and antibodies seemed to have been just what his body needed to mount a defense against the Drazian flu.

Lennier stirred slightly and Delenn ran her thumb back and forth across his knuckles to try to ease him gently into consciousness. After several seconds, his eyes opened and met hers instantly, as though she had been the first thought on his mind upon waking. He smiled lovingly at her and seemed at peace, and Delenn felt warmth flood her heart. But it only lasted a moment, for suddenly Lennier shut his eyes, winced, and moaned softly.

“What is it, Lennier?” Concern tugged at the edge of Delenn’s voice when she saw that her friend was in obvious pain.

“My _head_ ,” he groaned. “The lights are really bright.”

Franklin, who had entered a few steps behind Delenn and was adjusting the fluid pump, chuckled. “That’s called a hangover. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but it will pass in a few hours. We’ll keep you on fluids to flush out any remaining toxins and make sure there’s no lingering dehydration contributing to the headache, and I’ll turn the lights down a little. How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Chest hurts,” Lennier mumbled, his eyes still scrunched shut, “but not so bad as yesterday.” He coughed and then went still, his expression caught in a grimace at the further aggravation of his already pounding headache.

“I’ll get you some acetaminophen.” Franklin hurried off, leaving Delenn alone with her friend.

In the now dimmer light, Lennier slowly opened one eye partway. “I suppose they told you what happened?” He looked nervous.

Delenn smiled gently. “Only that Vir tried to help you feel better and as a result you accidentally ingested some alcohol.”

“That would be the general idea, yes,” mumbled Lennier, sighing and closing his eye again. “Please don’t be angry with Vir, Delenn. He was only trying to help.”

“I know. And I’m not angry,” she replied. It was good that Lennier had friends other than just her who cared for him very much – he certainly deserved it. Although winding up in Medlab as a result of their devotion was less than ideal.

“Thank you,” said Lennier. He sighed softly and looked at her with both eyes this time. “I will admit that I do not remember everything that happened last night. It is…bits and pieces. I remember emotions – hatred and anger and frustration, and then guilt. And then nausea.” He winced yet again. “None of it was in any way enjoyable.” He frowned at the memory, before his eyes grew suddenly wide. “Vir and Marcus. Oh, no. Oh Delenn, did I hurt them?” He looked desperate, pleading.

Delenn hesitated for just a moment to think about how she wanted to present the information that would likely shatter her friend’s tender heart, but it was enough for Lennier to pick up on the truth.

“I did,” he whispered, his eyes widening. “Oh Delenn, _tell_ me they’re all right.”

“They are,” she soothed quickly. “They will be just fine.” She could not keep the truth from her friend, though. They had suffered too much in the past by not telling each other the whole truth for her not to tell him what he had done in his compromised state. “But I am afraid you did bruise Vir’s neck a bit when you tried to strangle him, and Marcus apparently has a few slightly fractured ribs.”

Lennier shut his eyes and moaned. “Oh no. No.”

“It is not your fault,” Delenn reassured him. “You were not yourself, and your actions were not your own. No one blames you, Lennier, and so you should not blame yourself.”

Lennier seemed to wilt into the bed. “But I hate the idea of having hurt _anyone, especially_ my friends.”

“I know.” Delenn stroked his cheek and she felt him relax the littlest bit at her caress. “Because you are a good and sweet and kind person. The universe needs more people like you.”

He reached up and cupped his hand over hers where it rested on his cheek. “And you.”

She pressed his fingers lovingly as Franklin entered the room once more.

“Okay, I’ve got some painkillers. It’s not a non-steroidal – we don’t want to flirt with any more stomach ulcers. Can you keep down a couple of pills?”

“I think so. Thank you, Doctor.” Lennier swallowed the medication when Franklin handed it to him with a glass of water.

“Okay, good. Keep sipping on that water. In a few hours you should try eating something. You’ve still got the Drazian flu – you need to keep your strength up. After that, if everything’s still going ok, we can send you home this afternoon. Sound good?”

“It does.” Lennier thanked him again and Franklin left the two to their time together. Delenn laid the back of her hand across Lennier’s forehead.

“Well, since you are apparently in need of some good news, it should please you to know that you do not have a fever anymore.”

“It does.” He smiled for a moment, but then looked earnestly into Delenn’s eyes. “I hope it makes you feel better as well. I am sorry I’ve worried you the past couple of days.” He dropped his gaze, his old, well-trained Religious Caste habits taking over. Delenn placed a hand beneath his chin and gently lifted it until his eyes met hers once more.

“To say I have not worried about you these past couple of days would be a lie, as would saying there is a single moment during which I do not worry any time you are even the slightest bit ill.” Lennier looked saddened, but Delenn continued. “I know you don’t like hearing me say that, but the joy you bring into my life is worth every bit of worry I feel. _You_ are worth it, Lennier.”

Lennier’s bottom lip quivered, and Delenn wrapped him into a tight embrace, which he returned.

“Stay with me forever, _Ker’maier Ard’ka_ ,” she murmured into his shoulder.

“I will certainly try my hardest,” he replied. When they separated, his eyes were shining with unshed tears, but he was smiling.

“Thank you,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “But while you do, you must promise me one thing.”

He chuckled hoarsely. “Let me guess – no more alcohol?”

“No more alcohol, _ever.”_


End file.
